


A Just Cause

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: So long as the Children didn't know, so long as they could keep up appearances, they could at least continue to rule in Aman unchallenged.





	A Just Cause

The Silmaril seemed to shine twice as bright while Eönwë carried it from the kneeling supplicant to Manwë on his throne, its peerless radiance untrammelled after a long time spent in the lands of decay. It was as it ought to be. The gem was back where it belonged, in the hands of those who had a greater right to it than anyone else. It would restore the glory of Aman, bring joy to the Valar and their faithful followers, prove their perfection to the whole of Arda.

Manwë held his hands out. Eönwë all but dropped the gem in them before retreating with eyes downcast, his face puckered in an unbecoming frown.

Manwë grasped the coveted treasure, and almost cast it away. Eärendil didn't notice the way he stiffened, the way his lips set in a tight line, and went on talking, begging for the Valar's intervention in Beleriand, to save what little could be saved. The half-elf had never been in the Valar's presence before, and having been born in the Outer Lands he was more a witless, gibbering toddler than a Child even. The Vanyar might notice, so Manwë didn't let go of the Silmaril, even though he wished desperately to be as far as possible from the gem which screeched and burned in his hands. He caught only scraps of the half-elf's words, befuddled, his whole being steeped in a pain such as he had never before experienced. He hastily granted the help Eärendil so humbly beseeched just so he could dismiss him.

Replacing the burnt skin of his hands and arms posed no problem for him once the Children had left. Soothing the hurt in his spirit was another matter entirely. Even though the Valar took the Silmaril inside the sanctuary the Vanyar had built for them on Taniquetil, away from the Children's eyes, and laid it down with words of mastery, it didn't stop seething at their mere proximity, repelled them with flashes of light like towering waves.

Yavanna tried to reach out to the echoes of Laurelin and Tyelperion inside it, but she found the light of the Silmaril preserved nothing of her beloved trees' nature. Niënna's tears didn't move flawlessly crafted silima. Varda couldn't mould it like a star, and her very hallowing whispered back to her that she was a seedling of evil, for she had done nothing to prevent all the suffering the gem had witnessed inside Angband.

In the Halls of the Dead, Námo promised Fëanáro to release him and his sons and make them kings in Tirion, promised to release his parents too, and forget his crimes, if only he would appease the Silmaril for them. Fëanáro laughed and replied nothing, and so did his sons, who were still only large eyes and formless shadow. Many fëar never evolved beyond that stage, but Fëanáro had mastered the nature of the spirit, and was able to change his form at will as well. His sons would surely follow in his footsteps in death, too. 

Tulkas hurled the Silmaril across the sanctuary in a fit of rage when he heard of Fëanáro's derision. The clanging of it echoed all through Taniquetil like a minor earthquake, but the gem didn't break. Manwë reprimanded Tulkas harshly, and the next few days the Valar spent exchanging their thoughts like barbed arrows hurled at each other's souls. 

If whatever burned inside the Silmaril could hurt them so much from across its diamantine shell, they didn't dare imagine what it would do to them if released, coursing free in the airs, what it would do to them at the End of Time, when they would be diminished and weary of the world.

If Melkor had kept the gems in his crown for as long as he had, it meant that having one stolen might have delayed his inevitable demise. It also meant that he would be so weak by now that it wasn't necessary for one of the Valar to travel to Middle Earth to fight him. An army of the Children would be enough. The Vanyar would be happy to fight – and die – for their gods, the Ñoldor who had stayed in Aman were surely eager to demonstrate their loyalty and thus wash away the stain of their kin's sins, and the Teleri had no reason to deny their ships to their lords. 

The Silmaril they decided to put in the half-elf's care, up in the sky where it would be far enough not to hurt them, and yet not too far. The half-elf had to become immortal in order to fulfil their purpose, therefore they offered both him and his spouse the chance to choose the doom of elves or of men. Elwing was easy to manipulate into embracing the former: Nimloth her mother was released from the Halls as an incentive, regardless of the fact that Nimloth's healing had barely begun. Faced with his spouse's decision, Eärendil chose an immortal life against his own heart, and so he was sent to bring hope to the world – and stave off the Valar's despair.

Manwë ordered Eönwë to let the war against Morgoth drag on before the army set out – even should the number of the fallen be higher than necessary, it would only make more martyrs for a just cause. The Valar needed time to devise a ruse for when the Silmarils would be returned to them, to keep the gems while eschewing the danger they posed to them. It was paramount that the Children shouldn't find out. So long as the Children didn't know, so long as they could keep up appearances, they could at least continue to rule in Aman unchallenged.

In their fear, their boundless might had failed to see the obvious: that the living sons of Fëanáro would not let the Silmarils be taken to Valinor. It was a relief, in a way – at least for the time being.

Melkor's might had been completely sapped from him, to the point that he had been unable to offer any resistance when he was seized, none when he was carried to Aman and thrust into the Void. He looked so hollowed out that the Valar started to doubt he could ever rise again, as he was ordained to. His helplessness gnawed at them. Would they be consumed in the same manner, though more subtly? And what might the sons of Fëanáro be planning with the gems back in their possession? What if they could somehow feed the fire within the gems that hurt the Valar so? The Children believed Nelyafinwë and Canafinwë to be lost, gone, not a threat anymore, and it was tempting for the Valar to give credence to those stories as they were repeated over and over. 

But the Silmaril drew an arch in the night sky like a smile mocking their fear, the very stars a multitude of teeth nipping and biting at their spirits.

**Author's Note:**

> This could work as a sort of prequel for both [Antistar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5110070) and the [One more soul to the call](http://archiveofourown.org/series/158345) series, but it's also (sort of) canon-compliant.


End file.
